


To Know One's Place

by Lyledebeast



Series: Plans [8]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Blindfolds, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Light BDSM, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-11-01 15:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyledebeast/pseuds/Lyledebeast
Summary: A study of places in which Guy and Marian have experienced trauma and their attempts to claim some of these and let go of others.





	1. Locksley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holyhobbitshit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyhobbitshit/gifts).



> This is mostly a G/M fic since they have stronger, and more fraught, connections to these places, but they are in an informed, consenting polyamorous relationship with Allan, so he will play an important role here too.
> 
> Many thanks to the talented holyhobbitshit for encouraging me to write this, even though some aspects of it are a bit out of my comfort zone. Hope you like!

Allan had no interest in moving into Locksley; that much was plain. In fact, he had rejected Marian’s suggestion with a shake of his head before she had even finished making it.  She was not surprised; it had only been a half-hearted effort on her part.  After months of daily reminders that it rightfully belonged to Robin while he was still part of the gang, she could see how it would be more than a little awkward for him to inherit the manor from the former Master at Arms. Still, once she and Guy had become engaged, she had started making plans to find a new place for Allan so they could conceal the unconventional relationship with the three of them shared.  It was a miracle that they had shared Guy’s bed at the castle for this long without drawing suspicion.

The simplest way to dispose of Locksley was, of course, to give it back to its rightful owner, but Marian was wary of contacting Robin.  Their last meeting, when she and Guy had ridden into the forest together to tell the gang that Prince John had taken the sheriff to London to stand trial, had been as frosty as the weather. And Marian had not made matters better by reminding Robin, the single time he had visited the castle, who was responsible for getting rid of their enemy. Since then, she had decided that no news from the forest was the best news, and presumed that her former lover felt the same. 

For all this tension, however, she had not been able to resist sending a wedding invitation to the forest.  Guy had frowned deeply when she told him what she’d done, and Allan thought that she was out of her mind, but she would not be deterred.  Robin and the gang were not always of one mind; even if he were angry with her, they needed to understand that neither she nor Guy meant them any ill will.  She wanted them to know that there was no need for them to hide in the forest anymore now that Vaisey was dead, but more selfishly, she needed them to know that she was happy with her choice.  This time, she was not being compelled to marry Guy against her will. Perhaps they would not believe either claim, but she could not be swayed from giving them the option.

Two days after she sent the message, she found herself both perplexed and anxious when her servant told her that one of Robin’s men had come to see her.  It was a testament, she supposed, the gang’s effectiveness that the poor girl couldn’t even tell her which of them it was.  She had expected Will, maybe Djaq in masculine attire, but she was shocked to find Much waiting for her by the fire.

“How are you, my lady,” he asked anxiously, seeming to almost wring has poor cap in his hands.

Marian smiled, hoping to ease his discomfort.  “I’m well, Much.  It’s good to see you.”

He glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye, as though suspicious of the intentions behind such a friendly greeting.  She sighed inwardly.  Much was the only member of the remaining gang besides Robin whom she could say she knew well. He had always trusted in her before, often more than Robin had, but she knew how loyal he was. Of course he would have doubts now; she only wondered why he had been selected to deliver the message, whatever it was.

“Perhaps you had better tell me why you’re here,” she urged gently.  Though she braced herself for an unpleasant answer, her directness seemed to be just what Much needed to focus on the task at hand.  He straightened his back and looked at her . . . well, not so much her as a fixed point behind her.

“My master wanted me to ask if Gis . . . if . . . Sir Guy had decided what to do with Locksley.”

The request was so simple and welcome that for a moment Marian could only blink at him in silence.  “I . . . don’t think Guy has given a single thought to Locksely since he left it, to be completely honest.” Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a way to offer the manor to Robin in a way that would not excite further suspicion from Much, who seemed to only grow more nervous at her reply.

“He doesn’t . . . even know what he wants to do with it?” he asked, wide-eyed. The idea that Locksley could be of little concern to anyone who had lived there seemed almost more than Much could believe, and Marian regretted her flippancy.

“Does Robin care to return?” she blurted out. “I think perhaps . . .”

“Gisborne would allow that?” Much gasped, cutting her off.  He stopped himself, looking down at the floor as though abashed by his own boldness.

She stepped forward, laying a hand on his crossed arms.  “Leave Sir Guy to me, Much.  I think it would be an excellent thing for Locksley to be back in Robin’s hands.  With the she . . . with Lord Vaisey gone, it seems like the right time.”

Much looked up, finally meeting her eyes.  Now, it was she who felt embarrassed.  Somehow, she still couldn’t quite see her fiancé as the sheriff, even though Prince John had insisted on his being so.  She knew that Guy still half-believed that he would come back on his white horse, shouting orders, and his paranoia was beginning to infect her as well.

Then man before her opened his mouth and shut it several times, trying to control himself and failing.  “Why did you send the invitation, Marian,” finally burst forth.  He stepped back, dropping his arms as though overpowered by the force of his own words.

Marian watched the blush rise to his cheeks as he crossed his arms again.  It wasn’t an easy question for him to ask, but it was honest.  Like everything else about him.

“Much,” she said softly, smiling when he lifted his eyes to meet hers.  “I sent it because I want us to be friends again.  I know that my . . . that the end of my relationship with Robin is hard for you . . . all of you.” She suspected the last part was not really true.  None of them had ever been as blindly loyal to Robin as his servant. If he were less loyal, he would have left Robin by now too.

At the thought, she felt a sudden upwelling of sympathy for him.  Stepping forward, she put a hand on his shoulder, lowering her head to meet his gaze.  “The sheriff is defeated now, Much, but the king is still away.  Prince John is still in power, and we are not out of danger yet.  We . . . we need to help each other, if needed.  The castle may well need help from the forest yet.”

It wasn’t until Much blinked that she saw the wetness around his eyes.  Not wanting to embarrass him with her notice, she averted her own.

“How is everyone in the forest,” she asked, suddenly remembering her manners and asking him to sit in one of the chairs drawn up next to the fireplace.

After a moment’s hesitation, he sat down slowly, watching her all the while. Marian found herself regretting the request; m aybe he would have felt more comfortable standing.

But before she could ask, he began. “Well, to tell the truth, Marian, things have been rather dull.  We still wake up early, from habit, and have breakfast, but then . . . we often don’t know what to do with ourselves.”

Marian bit her lip, trying to hold contain her glee.  “But surely that’s an improvement over what you’re used to.  You don’t have to save anyone from execution on a daily basis.”

“Oh no, no,” he insisted. “I’m not saying I miss it!  It’s just . . . well, it would be nice to have something to do again.”

As he went on about how much busier their days had been under the old sheriff, Marian found her mind wandering.  Sitting back in her chair, she ruminated on the mental image of the gang sitting around in camp, beset with boredom and no means of relieving it.  Why didn’t they just leave, and put their various talents to some use?

“If we could just help someone, build something . . .” Much continued.  At his last words, she snapped out of her reverie.

“Build something? Build what?”

Much paused, startled.  “Well, I . . . I don’t know.  A house maybe.”

The broad grin Marian had tried to contain spread across her face. “I think I have a way for us to help each other.”

* * *

It had taken some time for Guy and Allan to warm to the idea.  Guy was anxious that Robin’s return to Locksley would bring attention to the manor that would not go unnoticed by Prince John’s messengers, who still made frequent trips to Nottingham.

 “Listen, Guy,” she explained, “if he’s just living his life there, what will there be for Prince John’s men to notice? Do any of them know him? If he needs to adopt an alias until the king’s return, it isn’t as though that will be foreign to him! The only reason the peasants made him such a focal point in the first place was because of how oppressed they were under the old sheriff.  We won’t give them cause. Besides, the commission we’ve offered the gang will help the people to pay their taxes.  They’ll still be able to accomplish their goals, but with far less bloodshed than before.”

Guy had remained skeptical, but said no more on the subject.  Allan’s concerns posed more difficulties.  He simply didn’t like the idea of the gang going to so much trouble on his behalf.  Even with all that had happened, he still felt guilty about having betrayed them. As much as she tried to reassure him that they would be willing to let the past go, it was not until she visited the site of construction that she learned how they, at least Djaq, really felt.

“We’re delighted to be building a house for Allan,” she said as she sliced the loaf of bread Marian had brought for their afternoon break.  “You can’t imagine what a relief it is to have something constructive to do.” John and Will nodded in agreement; Much’s attention seemed wholly absorbed by his slice of bread, onto which he was smearing a thick layer of butter.  But he had been the first to greet her when she arrived; indeed, it was he who had braved the castle again to invite her.

As the men dispersed with their bread, Marian found herself sitting confidentially near Djaq,

“I think it means a lot to Will especially, Marian,” she said.

“Oh,” she replied, intrigued.  Will was a closed book to her: observant, but quiet.  If anyone knew his thoughts, though, it was Djaq.  In spite of her troubles with Robin, she had seen the bond growing between them even when she was living in the forest, and it was clear they had only grown closer since. Indeed, it was possible that her own strained relationship had made her more observant.

“He missed Allan so much after he left.  He was angry too, but more so, I think, because Allan’s betrayal took his friend away from him.  But now, Allan comes to see how his house is progressing, and they talk, they laugh together.  I think . . . Will is not a man to apologize . . . but doing this for Allan is good for them both.”

Marian smiled.  This was even better than she expected. Not only would Allan finally have a place of his own--situated between the castle and the forest, no less—but he might regain a friend he believed he had lost.

“And what of you, Djaq? What will you do?”

She laughed softly.  “Will tries to give me small tasks.  He is the carpenter, after all, but I’m afraid I’m not very good with a hammer.  My main role here is to provide medical attention in case someone hits his thumb or falls from the scaffolding. Fortunately, there have been no accidents so far.”

“That must be rather dull,” Marian observed.  Then she went silent for a moment, another idea taking shape in her mind.  “Your skills and knowledge could, perhaps, be better used elsewhere.  There is always illness and injury, even in times of peace.”

Djaq shrugged. “That’s true, of course.  Sometimes people do come to me for such help, especially now that it’s safer to come and go in the forest, but it’s still such a long way for people to travel.”

“That’s true,” Marian agreed, still deep in thought.  “If you had a horse of your own, though . . .”

At the sound of hoofbeats behind her, Marian saw Djaq lift a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked up.

“Hello, Robin.”

* * *

Marian thought later that her ability to remain calm did her credit, though her heart had pounded with anxiety at the time.  Though she had been getting on well with the gang, the presence of their leader made her feel so very isolated without Guy or Allan.  The last time she had seen him had been in the castle: her territory, though she was still getting used to thinking of it that way.  Where she had sat that afternoon, surrounded by his gang, was his, however friendly they had been to her.  The house under construction was Allan’s only in theory as yet.

Much to her relief, however, Robin’s attitude had not been the least bit quarrelsome.  And then he had surprised her.  He was on his way to Locksley, and wished her to accompany him.  Apparently, some of Guy’s things remained there, and he wanted them removed.  It was his consideration that she found most unexpected; he did not even raise the issue of her upcoming marriage.  Still, she would have expected that his frustration and anger would have been taken out on Guy’s possessions.  After all, if he had never “belonged” at Locksley himself, his things certainly didn’t. 

Much to her relief, he had left her almost as soon as they arrived. They had been discussing her meetings with the prince’s messengers—Robin finally growing cooperative—but when they arrived at Locksley, he had become withdrawn and silent.  Perhaps being with Marian in the place where he had believed they would spend their lives together was too much for him to bear. She certainly found herself flooded with conflicting feelings as soon as she had crossed the threshold, and they had as much to do with Guy as with Robin.  Some were not so unpleasant, but others chilled her in spite of the warm fire the servants had started earlier in the day to prepare for Robin’s return. She had robbed Guy in this house, and he had almost murdered her for it. She wondered if she could have ever been happy with Guy here after that.

And yet, he had tried so hard to make the place his home.  His coat of arms was still hanging on the wall, and was even emblazoned on some smaller articles, but the few pieces of everyday furniture that were his stood out in sharp contrast with the things she recalled as having been there before Robin left.  Even the very house itself seemed to have rejected Guy’s presence, and she found herself grown uncomfortable there.  Taking a wine pitcher with the Gisborne coat of arms on it and wrapping it protectively in her cloak, she hurried out. She would send a cart back for the rest later.

Back on her horse, she turned to look at the house once more, and felt a stab of regret for not having offered it to him sooner.  Regret, and envy.  Robin could have his childhood home back, but she never could.  It had been burned to the ground, just like Guy’s.  While she knew that her fiancé was responsible for that, she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry with him anymore.  What struck her most was the senseless tragedy of it.  He had robbed them both, for now he could not have a safe home that had only known love either.  They, both of them, had to made what they could of the castle

* * *

Upon returning she found Guy in their bedroom, changing for dinner.  He had just removed his muddy boots, but stood up on his bare feet to greet her when she entered.  Without explanation, she drew the painted pitcher from the folds of her cloak and handed to him. A smile appeared on his face as he turned it in his long hands, scrutinizing it.  Almost as though he had never seen it before, Marian observed. When his eyes met hers again, his face was almost glowing.

“Thank you, Marian.  This is beautiful work; who made it?”

Her mouth fell open, but for a moment surprise made her speechless.  “Well, I . . . I was hoping you could tell me, Guy.  I didn’t have it made.  I . . . found it.”

Guy knit his eyebrows, and the smile disappeared as he lowered his gaze to inspect the pitcher again.  When his frown deepened, Marian knew that he recognized it. Her palms began to sweat with unpleasant anticipation.

“You’ve been to Locksley.”

He spoke softly, and didn’t look up, but his dejection was no less troubling to Marian than rage would have been.  Her mind suggested the possibility of just telling him she just happened to pass it while she was out, and just went in alone on a whim, but she dismissed it.  It was getting harder to lie to him.  Even if she could now, she knew she would regret it later.

“That’s right.  Robin came to the site today, and told me that some of your things were still there.”

Guy scoffed as he sat the pitcher down on the bedside table.  “I’m surprised Robin would let anything of mine remain in his house.”

 “He . . . seemed to think I’d want to bring them to you.  I hope that’s alright,” she ventured cautiously.

He glanced at her just long enough for her to see how pale his face had gone.  “He went there with you?”

Guy perceived her anger before she could voice it, raising his hands in entreaty as he stepped closer.  “Oh no . . . darling.  I . . . I don’t suspect you.  I wouldn’t accuse you. I just . . . I don’t know what I meant.”

At her silence, his eyes fell despondently, and he took a step towards his clean boots, which were sitting on the floor a few feet away.  Marian put her hand on his shoulder to stop him, feeling him stiffen through the leather of his jacket.  Even when he turned to face her, but still kept his eyes down. Without a word, she pulled him close and lay her head on his chest.  His heart was pounding, and for a moment she regretted her actions.  The trip to Locksley, bringing him the pitcher, and mentioning Robin to him most of all.  But then she felt his arms wrap around her shoulders.  Smiling against his chest, she tightened her hold on his waist.

“I know you don’t suspect me,” she murmured.  “I’m sorry. But if it bothers you that I saw Robin, I wish you’d tell me why.”

His chest rose and fell as he sighed, but he dipped his head to press a kiss to her hair.  “It doesn’t bother me . . . really.  But, I do wonder.  It must bring up some kind of feeling . . . some memories.  To be with him at Locksley like that.”

Marian thought for a moment, then stood up on her toes to kiss him.  “It did.  But really, they were as much about you.  Mostly, I thought of times when we were all three at Locksley together.”

She looked up to see him blanch as his arms fell away, and knew immediately that he understood.

“The night when you came as the Night Watchman and I . . . I . . .”

She cut him off before he could finish that forbidding thought.  Knowing that he had seen the scar he left on her, many times by now, was enough at present.

“Yes, certainly that moment.  But that’s not the only one, Guy.  I also thought of the night that I came to Locksley dressed . . . as myself.  It was after you stopped your men from killing those little boys. I arrived and you were . . . a little less than formally dressed.”

A grin widened on her face as his lips quirked into a tiny smile.  “I remember,” he admitted. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.  “Robin was there?”

Marian lifted her hands to Guy’s chest, wincing inwardly.  With the growing understanding between them, she sometimes forgot how little Guy knew even now about her secret activities.

“I saw him watching from the window when I was talking to you.  He had followed me.”

He shook his head with a wry smirk.  “I’m beginning to think we never actually had a moment alone in those days.  I thought we were making a connection then, but now . . .”

She lifted a finger his lips, silencing him.  “We were, Guy.  Robin’s presence didn’t change that, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.” Taking hold of his hand, she sat down on the bed.

“Come down here, and I’ll tell you something even Robin doesn’t know about that night.”

Guy looked at the door, and when he turned back his mouth had tightened uneasily.  She could see that he was curious, but anxious as well.

“Come on, Guy,” she urged.  “It’s an hour before dinner will be served.”

It wasn’t the truth, she thought as the bed creaked under his weight as he sat, but it could hardly serve it without the lord of the castle present, could they?

Guy stretched out on his back with his head in her lap, and his eyes fluttered shut with pleasure as she combed her fingers through his hair.

“When I came to see you that night, I had every intention of sleeping with you.”

She couldn’t stop the giggle that burst forth when his eyes flew open in shock at her words.

“No,” he gasped.  “I mean . . . it certainly didn’t seem like it.  From what I remember.”

She scraped her nails over his scalp, drawing a sigh from him as he pressed his head back into her lap. She continued.

“Maybe it was just because I was angry with Robin.  I’d decided that if he was going to believe I’d give in to you in spite of all my reassurances, I should do it.  At least your suspicions would be put to rest, and if he didn’t want to use my information to help people, then I would.”

She glanced down, made anxious by the tension that lined his brow as he looked up at her.

“But then you saw him and thought the better of it?” he suggested flatly, still piqued by the knowledge of Robin’s presence there.

Marian sighed and removed her hand from his hair, laying it in the center of his chest.

“No, Guy.  I had already changed my mind.”

His expression softened, changing to confusion.  “Why? Was it something I did?”

She paused.  The memory had been so clear that afternoon, but now that she was with Guy in the flesh, it took time for it to return.

“Yes . . . and no. It was something I saw in you.  I think . . . a part of me had believed that if I just gave you what you wanted, that you’d lose interest.  Maybe you’d see it as further punishment for humiliating you at the altar.  But then . . . you were so . . .”

“Rude? I think I said something not having feelings for you anymore.”

“I think so too,” she agreed.  “But it was clear that wasn’t true, even as you said it.  You were . . . subdued.  But hopeful.  I could see that it would mean something to you.  More than to me.  And I knew it would only get worse when you when you learned the truth.  I wasn’t even afraid of you, at the moment.  I just knew I didn’t want to be responsible for. . . hurting you.”

By the time she stopped speaking, Guy was looking up at her in wonder, but as the silence he lengthened he dropped his eyes.

“You were right, you know,” he murmured.  “My feelings for you . . . they never went away.  Not even after . . . after . . .”

She leaned down to stop him with a long, hungry kiss.  There was something else she remembered about that evening, but she could show Guy better than she could tell him.  She had wanted him then, and talking about it, now that she could have him, awakened those feelings forcefully. After pulling back long enough to let him sit up next to her, she stood, stepping between his spread lets and bending down to kiss him again.  When she deepened the kiss, she felt his hand reach up to cup her breast, but almost as soon as she registered it, it was gone.

“Marian, we can’t!” he insisted, the huskiness in his voice betraying him even as he pulled back from her.

“Guy,” she replied sternly. He groaned loud as she reached down to palm the erection pressed against his thigh.  After that, he made no further objections.

* * *

Guy was quiet that night at dinner, and it seemed that every time she looked at him he was either yawning wearily or, if she caught his eye, giving her a bashful smile.  He had been similarly uncommunicative at the old sheriff’s dinners, but she doubted the reasons were as pleasant.  She was silent for most of the meal also; once again deep in thought.

She had to admit, their bedroom was the only room in the castle in which she had ever gotten any kind of pleasure.  And, God above, what pleasure it was! But the room itself was hardly comfortable.  The bleakness of the furnishings she could live with, but it was so drafty that on some nights she and Allan were fighting, almost in earnest, over who should have more access to Guy’s warm body.  Guy would lie there, half-amused even as he urged them to share; she suspected he was the only one of the three of them who was truly warm.

The room the old sheriff had used, however, was very cozy indeed, the warmest in the castle by far.  Of course, he would make sure he was comfortable, the old sinner. But now that he was gone, there was no reason why his successors should not benefit.

Though Guy was very near to drifting off to sleep even as they waited for Allan that night, she was too excited by the prospect to not bring it up.

“Guy, I’ve been thinking . . . Guy?”

She gave him a gentle shake until he opened his eyes again.  
“Hmm? Yes, Marian.”

“I’m cold.”

She chuckled as he pulled her closer against him, laying her head on his shoulder.  “This will only help me until Allan gets here, you know.”

Guy sighed.  “Well, you tell me that his house will be finished soon.  When he’s living there, you won’t have any competition.”

“Except for the nights when you abandon me here to go and be with him,” she cried, playfully poking him in the chest with her finger.  “Don’t think I don’t know there will be plenty of those.”

“Well, what your solution?” he asked.  She thought she could detect a note of curiosity under the sleepiness of his tone.  She hoped so.

“Well, what if we started sleeping in the sheriff’s bedroom? Now that the birds have all found new homes, and their mess has been cleared away, it’s quite comfortable.  You know I write all of my correspondence on that big table and I’ve actually found myself looking for things to write because that room is so . . . Guy, what’s the matter?”

His body had stiffened with tension in her arms, and she could hear his heartbeat quickening.  This was not curiosity; what had she said that had upset him?

“Nothing’s wrong,” he lied.  “I just . . . I don’t think I could actually sleep in there, Marian.”

She lifted her head and sat up to look at him, baffled.  “But, why not, Guy?”

He glanced up at her, then at the door, eyes wide in panic, as though willing for Allan to come through it and save him.  “Well . . . I’ve never slept there before.”

Marian narrowed her eyes in confusion, but she was at a loss for words.  It made no sense.  What reason could there possibly have been for him to sleep in that room when the sheriff was alive that made it worth mentioning that he hadn’t? And after all, there was a time at which he had never slept at Locksley, but for all his discomfort there, she was sure he had managed to sleep at some point.  And he hadn’t been sleeping in his current bedroom all his life.

Fortunately, Allan did come in at that moment, and Guy was temporarily reprieved. But once the men were asleep, she found her mind drifting back to her new project again.  It wasn’t unreasonable that Guy would have such negative feelings about a space inhabited by a man who had treated him so terribly.  But with his things from Locksley there, surely it could be made to look like his space very easily.  More importantly, he would have her there.  Finally, she felt her anxiety pass and contentment take its place.  She just needed to be patient.


	2. The Sheriff's Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this fic was going to be only two chapters, but this one was getting so long with the dialogue, especially Allan's revelation about Guy and Vaisey's relationship. And I decided it would not be entirely appropriate to follow that with a Guy/Marian sex scene. So, I'll be saving that for the epilogue!

The months that followed the wedding were full of surprises for Marian.  Even though there was peace in Nottingham for the first time since her father had been sheriff, it took a lot of work to maintain it.  Guy was doing his best, but he had only ever been a knight, and that meant he relied heavily on her knowledge when it came to the everyday concerns of the people. That knowledge was sparser than she realized.  It was one thing to help them survive poverty by robbing the wicked wealthy and giving the money to them, but something altogether different to keep Prince John deceived, reassure their noble allies that their patience for King Richard would be rewarded, and settle what seemed to her the petty squabbles of the tradesmen.  And then there were the endless fears of the farmers: too much rain, not enough, diseases spreading among the livestock: calamities that could occur regardless of who was king . . . or sheriff, for that matter.

Robin could never have stood being sheriff, she thought to herself, but it was little comfort.  Fortunately, like Robin, she had help.  Djaq had indeed moved into the castle to take on the permanent role of physician to the sheriff.  In fact, however, she had become far more successful than the other physicians of Nottingham, and Marian was confident that her popularity would only grow once the people go over their mistrust of her foreign appearance and religion .  It was a move that at the very least made those who lived in town begin to soften their hatred towards Guy. Not only was he fairer and more just than Vaisey had been, but he had brought them something they desperately needed.  Marian found herself spending even more time with her now, and she had only come to appreciate her more; Djaq was wise about more than just medicine.  And she seemed happy enough.  Will had moved back to his home in Locksley, and they could see each other almost every day.

Guy’s knowledge of politics was most helpful as well.  For all his fears about Prince John, he knew far more about his ambitions and past actions than she had realized.  Though flattering his vanity had worked so far, Marian feared there might one day come a time when they needed more than that.  For the moment, though, her greatest challenge was Guy’s self-doubt.  Vaisey had used his whimsical cruelty to intimidate nobles and commoners alike into submission; this was the only means of governance Guy had seen firsthand.  He feared that he would somehow follow in his predecessor’s footsteps, regardless of his intentions.  Marian had found the idea laughable at first; her husband may have enjoyed the illusion of power that intimidating people created, but he was never cruel simply for his own amusement.  It was not funny to Guy, however, and she found herself trying to explain why Vaisey’s tactics had failed without really being able to provide alternatives.  What had her father done? She remembered believing that he was loved by the people, but that had been the case for as long as she could remember.  How had he achieved that? She missed him more than ever now.

Thank God for Allan. It has hard to name exactly what made him so vital to her; there were too many different reasons.  He had no expertise in leading people, but he could calm her when she became agitated and made her laugh even when she was full of self-doubt. He could even make Guy laugh, which was a wonder to behold.  Before her father had died—it seemed another lifetime now—it had been impossible for her to imagine being married to Guy.  His loyalty to Vaisey and his wicked designs had been the main reason, but hardly the only one.  His devotion to her alarmed her in its intensity, mostly because she felt she knew him so little.  He had shown her bursts of rage, followed by penitence, and the unpredictability frightened her.  It never frightened Allan, though.  Guy was still short-tempered at times, even now, but Allan always took in in stride.  Somehow, he always seemed able to look past the anger to the reason for it.  And when he apologized later, as he always did, Allan knew how to reassure him.  She often found herself wondering if their marriage would work now if it weren’t for his presence.  While she did love Guy, she wasn’t sure she understood him yet.

 She was in the middle of explaining that to Allan when he gave her the look that was becoming all too familiar.

“I don’t know what the problem is.  You told me yourself that you can hardly recognize the bedroom, it’s so different now with all my things and Guy’s in it.  With the tapestries I bought and his coat of arms that I brought from Locksley it’s quite our own space.  And yet every time he walks through the door he gets as anxious as a spooked horse and I . . . what is it, Allan? What have I said now?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so exasperated, with Allan looking at her out of the corners of his eyes, his lips pressed in a tight line, but making no reply to her, she could not help it.

“It’s just . . .” he began hesitantly, “Why is it so important to you for Guy to sleep in that room?”

She scoffed.  “You’ve been outside with the men all day; how can you ask me that? It’s getting colder all the time! I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I could survive the winter in that drafty little room we use now.”

Allan shrugged and looked away.  “Well, if I could . . . you know I get cold much more easily than you do.”

Now she found herself peering at him with suspicion. “Why is it so important for you that we all remain uncomfortable?”

He sighed.  “Listen, Marian.  I’m not the one who looks at that room like a spooked horse.  If it was just me, I’d sleep there.  Remember, I lived in the forest for over a year, summer and winter! I can sleep anywhere.  But for Guy . . . it’s not quite the same.”

She stared at him, baffled.  “What are you talking about, Allan? How is it different?”

He looked away again and crossed his arms, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.  “He just . . . he knew the sheriff a lot better than either of us.”

Marian frowned, impatient with his vague replies.  “But the sheriff is dead, Allan.  There’s nothing in there that can harm him now.  It’s just a bedroom: a warm, draft-free . . .”

“Memories,” Allan interjected, cutting her off.  “Maybe it has . . . we just don’t know what might have happened to him in there.”

He bit his lip as he finished, as though trying too late to hold his words back.  Marian couldn’t remember ever seeing him so reluctant, and it was worrying.

“What do you think happened?”

Without looking at her, he heaved a deep sigh and shook his head.

“Marian, I don’t know.”

“But you obviously suspect something or why would you . . .”

“I just . . . I shouldn’t have brought it up.  I’m sorry.  Don’t . . . Guy is happy now, Marian.  I know he is.  And he would do anything for you.  You know that.  Just . . . please don’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to, alright?”

She found herself too bewildered to make any reply besides a nod.  Allan gave her a tight smile, but quickly made an excuse to leave.  A training schedule for the new guards: how badly he must have wanted to escape if he preferred his least favorite duty to talking to her!  She knew it would be easier to let the matter go, but she could not.  It only added alarm to her curiosity about the past.  What could the sheriff had done in that room that he wouldn’t do publicly? He had certainly had no qualms about berating or even hitting Guy in front of others. Had he tortured him? Whatever it was, she thought asking her husband for details would be anything but helpful.  If Allan were so distressed by it, how must he feel?

* * *

Though the onset of winter often made her regret it, Marian tried to avoid putting further pressure on Guy to change bedrooms.  Allan was right; she had survived winter in the castle before as well.  But the difference between the comfort she had and what she might have still rankled within her.

The night on which her resolve cracked came at the end of a long, bitterly cold day, with a low, grey sky that had promised snow at every hour, but failed to deliver.  Snow:  to Marian’s mind, it was the only thing that made winter bearable.  She had learned recently in her talks with farmers that it was as essential as rain for the harvests as it kept the fields ready for planting, but she had always found it beautiful.

This week’s weather refused to comply with her wishes, and so had the farmers near the castle, whom she had invited to send their children in to sleep by the hearth.  She had visited more than a dozen households, and at each the residents had told her that they had no wish to displace the servants who worked at the castle.  There was plenty of room for all, she had explained, but to no avail.  By the time returned home after riding from cottage to cottage for most of the afternoon, she was half ready to sleep by the hearth with the servants herself.

“If they had come, Marian, I’m not sure we would have enough furs for all of them,” Guy offered that evening at dinner. 

She recognized the attempt at soothing her, but her mood was too bad to take it generously.  Turning to him with an eyebrow raised, she replied archly.  “If you and I didn’t have to sleep in the coldest room in the castle, there would be plenty to share from our bed!”

It wasn’t until he winced that she realized how harsh her words sounded.  She forced a smile to her lips, hoping that he would take it as a joke, but to no avail.  Guy frowned and looked away, embarrassed.

“If you want . . . why don’t you sleep in the . . . in the big bedroom.  For tonight,” he added hastily.  “If you think you’ll be warmer there.”

She stared at the side of his face, not knowing what to say in response.  She could sense that he wanted reassurance, that this was an opportunity to apologize for what she had said, or at least the tone.  But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  Being honest with Guy had taken time to get used to, but it had many advantages.  Most prominent among them was knowing that she didn’t always have to please him.

“Thank you,” she murmured.  “I think I will.  Just for tonight.” Guy gave her smile, but it looked just as unconvincing as hers had been just a moment before.

* * *

The bed was as warm as she expected; indeed, it was almost as warm as hers and Guy’s was with Guy in it.  And yet she found it impossible to so much as blow out the candle.  It was the first night since the wedding that she had not slept with him, barring the few nights he had spent at Allan’s house, and there had been none of those since the weather turned cold.  She missed him, so much so that words of welcome and gratitude flew to her lips as soon as she heard the creak of the oak door opening.  She recalled that Guy had seemed a little less reluctant to come into the room recently, so it wasn’t entirely surprising that he had decided to come up after all.

Her heart sank as Allan entered, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.

“Surprised, Marian?” he inquired as he caught sight of her.

She frowned, crossing her arms.  “That you’re spending the night in the castle and aren’t with Guy? A little. Why aren’t you with him?” she asked.  She heard the edge of petulance in her voice, but who could blame her? Guy had given her an opportunity, and she had taken it.  It was really none of Allan’s business.

He sighed and stepped closer to the bed.  Marian knew that he had been out in the cold weather training the castle guards all day, and could see the same signs of exhaustion in him that she felt.  She suddenly wished she had spoken differently.

“Oh, I’m going to spend the night with him.  I just . . . I wanted to tell you something first.”

Marian frowned again, the charitable feelings dissipating. “Have you come to scold me for wanting to be warm?”

He shook his head.  “It’s not like that, Marian.  I’m not angry with you. But I think you won’t stop wondering why Guy is . . . uncomfortable.  About that bedroom.  I have to tell you. But . . . please don’t tell Guy I said anything, alright?”

Marian froze, her eyes going wide.  What could Allan possibly tell her about Guy that was so terrible that she couldn’t discuss it with him? Barely conscious of what she was doing, she nodded.

“Can I sit down?” Allan asked, eyeing her nervously.

She blushed at her forgetfulness, and drew her feet up to make room for him.  “Of course.”

Sitting on the side of the bed, Allan looked straight in front of him and rubbed a hand over his face as he began to speak.

“You already know that I started sleeping with Guy not long after moving into the castle.  You found that out without me telling you, and . . . I know I haven’t told you much beyond that.”

Here he paused and looked down at the floor. Marian watched him in silence.  He sounded . . . almost embarrassed.  She wondered if this was to be about Guy after all, or a confession about himself.

“I haven’t told you,” he went on, “that some nights he would either come to bed until very late or . . .” he paused to swallow with some difficulty. “Sometimes, the sheriff would send a man for him after we had gone to bed.”

Marian found herself growing almost as uncomfortable as Allan; she wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them against her chest.

“Why?” she asked, not at all sure she really wanted to know the answer.

Allan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  “I learned rather quickly that that wasn’t a good question to ask.”

He gave no further explanation, but returned to his story. “Usually, when he got back to the room he would just lay down with his back to me, and we would go to sleep.  But then . . . there was one night when he wanted to . . . he wanted to do something a bit different from what we usually did.”

Marian narrowed her eyes; from her encounters with Guy and Allan, she had a basic grasp of what men did together in bed, but his vagueness bewildered her.

“Different in what way?”

He turned his head in her direction just enough for her to see his mouth drawn tight in consternation before facing forward again.

“It was the first time he’d ever . . . wanted me inside him.  And I wanted it too; I’m not gonna lie.  But when I did . . .”

His pause went on for what seemed like forever, but she couldn’t bear to urge him to finish.  She suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of dread, and was almost tempted to stop him.  Maybe if she promised that she would never bring up anything unpleasant to Guy again, it would mean not having to hear more.

“When a man isn’t . . . used to that,” he went on, faltering with anxiety, “you can tell.  And when he is . . . do you . . . know what I’m saying, Marian?”

Her mouth went dry as the thought came to her.  But no, it couldn’t be that, surely.  It was impossible.

“No.”

Allan heaved a deep say and said something in a voice so low she could not make it out.

“I’m sorry . . . what?”

“The sheriff was fucking him, Marian,” he blurted out.

Her mouth fell open and she dropped her arms to her sides.  It felt like the breath had been knocked out of her, but as his words sank in, the helplessness was replaced by a stomach-churning disgust.  She raised a hand to rub the bridge of her nose between her closed eyes, taking a deep breath.

When her eyes opened again, she saw that Allan was looking at her for the first time since he had sat down.  His forehead was drawn tight with concern.

“I’m sorry, Marian. I didn’t want to be so blunt, but . . . I didn’t know how else to . . .”

“How do you know?” she blurted out, still trying to compose herself.  “How do you . . . I just can’t believe that.”

“I don’t know for certain,” Allan muttered as dropped his eyes again.  “We never talked about it; how could I ask him about something like that?  But, if it wasn’t Vaisey who . . . did it, it was his idea. And you . . . you saw how much he touched him, right.  How much he loved to humiliate him.  How he never wanted him to get close to anyone else.”

Marian wrapped her arms around her legs again, looking down at her knees. “When I first mentioned our moving into this room,” she began, “he told me he might not be able to sleep here because he’d never done it before.  I thought it was odd at the time. Why would he sleep in Vaisey’s bed?”

Allan stared at her, blinking.  “Oh.  I had wondered if maybe he had before.  I thought maybe Vaisey was punishing him for what he did with me, that I had made things worse.  But no . . . I guess things were always that bad.”

She jerked her head up suddenly, scowling with vexation. “How could Guy allow him, Allan? He’s twice his size, and he’s strong.  Vaisey couldn’t possibly have forced himself on him!”

He shrugged.  “No, I don’t think he forced him.  This happened a lot of nights.  But that doesn’t mean he wanted it, either.”

Marian’s frown only deepened, and she shook her head.  “I don’t understand.”

Allan rubbed his hands over his face before turning to face her.  “Okay, listen.  Sometimes, you have to do something you don’t really want to do to avoid something worse.  I mean, Guy killed people for the sheriff.  Don’t you think that’s worse?”

“Yes,” Marian instantly, but as she reflected, it didn’t add up.  “But the sheriff would have killed him for disobedience if he hadn’t.  Are you saying the same would have happened if Guy refused to . . . that?” She couldn’t name the act, even now.

He was looking away from her again.  “Maybe not, but whatever it was, Guy decided this was the lesser evil.”

The sat in silence for a while before he spoke again. “I’ve told you that I had a sister and four brothers at one time, right?”

“You have.”

“Well,” he went on, “looking back now, I think my mother must have known it was killing her, having a baby every year.  That didn’t mean she was going to refuse my father sex. I don’t think he would have forced himself on her, but it might have ruined the peace in our home.”

Marian found herself nodding at that.  It made sense, put in terms of a husband and wife.  She had heard enough talk from servant women and ladies alike to understand that women often had sex they did not want, but this was the first time it had ever occurred to her that men might.  Her instinct was to argue that this was completely different; Guy had been Vaisey’s Master at Arms, not his wife. But was it really so different after all?

“But whatever Guy’s reasons were for . . . not resisting, it wasn’t easy for him.  He has to be thinking of that every time he goes in that room, however different it looks now.”

Marian watched Allan as he spoke, noting once again how haggard his appearance was.  Just telling her this story seemed to have tired him, and she knew he must be wanting to see Guy.  She felt that desire keenly herself, but she needed time to think through what she knew now.  And to think of what she would say when she saw him again.

“I understand, Allan.  I don’t . . . I truly know what to think, but I am glad that you told me.  I won’t ask Guy to move into this room again.”

He gave her a tired smile as he stood up, recognizing his dismissal.  “Thank you.  And I know what you mean.  I was shocked when I realized it, too. But, Vaisey is gone now, Marian.  He can’t hurt him anymore.”

The unspoken plea that she not hurt Guy either hung heavy between them.  Marian could sense it, but that did not stop her from standing and pressing a kiss to Allan’s lips.

“I think we both need some sleep,” she said as the kiss ended.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She returned his smile as he left, but as soon as the door closed behind him, her face fell.  Not only was she horrorstruck again by the thought of how far Vaisey’s tormenting of Guy had gone, but a deep sense of shame filled her.  How long had this been happening? She’d had no sense of it when she lived in the castle, but Allan seemed to think it been happening long before then.  While she believed Guy was benefitting from the sheriff’s cruelty, this was the reality.  How harshly she had judged him! If she had known; had she known, surely she would have treated him differently.

She blew out her candle, thought she thought it unlikely that she would find sleep any more easily in darkness.  Allan was right; the old sheriff was gone and could do no more harm to Guy.  But Guy’s memories of him remained, and they had to hurt.  And there was nothing she could do about that, except to be kind to him now.

* * *

She awoke after only a few hours of sleep to find that the sun was shining already, if it could be called shining through all the clouds she could see from the room’s great windows.  Still no snow, and still just as cold, but it didn’t seem to matter to her any more. Dressing quickly, she made her way to the bedroom she shared with her husband.

She opened the door to find Guy stretched out in the middle of the bed on his stomach.  He was alone; Allan seemed to have finally learned the important of getting up early to attend to his duties.  Without a word, she pulled back the covers and climbed into bed behind Guy.

He yawned and stretched as she wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below his ear.

“Good morning, darling,” he mumbled, placing one of his large hands over hers on his chest.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Well, it wasn’t drafty in that room, but that wasn’t enough to make up for being alone,” she answered, smiling against his skin.

Guy chuckled. “I missed you, too.  Maybe I should try to sleep there with you.  Perhaps it is time, as you said.”

The smile dropped from her face.  She wanted to apologize for what she had said before, for not understanding.  But that would imply that she did now, and how would she explain that? It was not worth breaking her promise to Allan just to make herself feel better.

“Listen to me, Guy,” she said.  “I will admit, I don’t understand why you want to avoid that room.” She paused, considering.  It was not exactly a lie; she didn’t know.  Only Guy and Vaisey truly knew what had happened. “But it’s not important that I understand.  It is important that I respect your feelings, and I’m sorry if I have failed in that.”

He rolled over to face her, concern lining his face.  “What do you mean, Marian?”

“I don’t know,” she said, smiling as she reached out to stroke his cheek.  “I don’t think it was right to blame you for our not having furs for children who didn’t want to come and claim them.  Or for the weather.”

“But . . . I wanted you to be comfortable,” he replied, still confused.

She lowered her hand to his neck, and leaned in to kiss his lips.

“And I want _you_ to be comfortable.  So, let’s compromise.  I will keep the bigger bedroom ready for use, and I may sleep there sometimes.  But I’ll never ask you to share it.”

“I didn’t say I would ‘never’ use it, Marian,” Guy insisted.  “You’ve gone to so much trouble with the new furniture, and the things from Locksley.  Perhaps I will.”

The guilt Marian had set aside returned full force; he had been noticing and appreciating her efforts.  Or perhaps she had just been talking about the accursed bedroom more than she had realized.

“Perhaps you will,” she replied.  “But it will be your decision, not mine, right?”

Guy gave her a playful little smile.  “Right . . . if that’s what you want.”

She sighed and shook her head before kissing him again.


	3. Epilogue

By the time the topic of the bigger bedroom came up again, there had been snow on the ground continuously for weeks.  The joy Marian had felt at its arrival had waned already, but at least the nearby peasants had finally taken advantage of her offer.  The hearth was so full of the elderly, children, and some well-loved dogs that Marian was sure many of the servants who lived there were wishing for warmer weather already.  But if they complained, they hid it from her.  The castle was finally serving the purpose she had always felt it should.

The only thing that could have pleased her more was having her husband with her every night. He came up to the bedroom with her more nights than not, but rather than sleeping they would go over the cases that had been presented to them that day.  Marian was proud of the progress he had made in judging the grievances brought before him, grievances had been all too eager to leave in her hands not long ago.  Now that he had the confidence to mete out decisions himself, she was surprised at how thoughtful and fair they were.  Praising him only made him anxious, though.  He refused to take credit, preferring to dismiss his decision as “common sense.” If she insisted, he would say that it was only owing to her influence which, to tell the truth, was worse.  After having gone without credit for so long, getting so much now embarrassed her.  Besides, there were easier ways to show him that she was pleased with him.

That, however, created a new problem. As soon as she began to undress him, he would pull away, anxiety replacing his excitement. Then he would ask her to return with him to their usual room, and she would comply, hoping that her disappointment wasn’t obvious.

So her pleasure was mixed with no small amount of suspicion that morning when he suggested that perhaps it was time for him to try sleeping in what he now called the “warm” bedroom.  Had it gotten so cold that even he was willing to sacrifice his emotional comfort for warmth, or was he just doing it to please her? Or perhaps, maybe, he had finally come to accept that the life he’d had, so full of humiliation and fear, was truly over.  Marian could only hope it was the latter.

“Are you sure, Guy? You know I don’t mind sleeping in the old bedroom.”

He quirked an eyebrow, smirking at her.  “I know there’s a difference between tolerating something and not minding it, darling.”

She smiled and shook her head.  “Well, I said that it would be up to you, didn’t I. Let’s try it, if you’re sure.”

Frowning, she considered for a moment. Surely it wouldn’t be as easy as that.  He’d never even let her remove his jacket in that room, let alone . . .

“I’m fine being in there when you are,” he explained before she could ask.  “It’s just . . . when I look around at other things, sometimes I remember.”

Marian felt the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile, inspiration taking hold of her mind.

“I think I might just have something that might help with that.”

* * *

That night, she found it much easier to distract him, and while she liked to think he was bewitched only by her kisses, that the additional glass of wine she had urged him to take at dinner clearly had not hurt.  This time, it was not until he was completely undressed that Guy began to turn his head, taking in the structure of the room, the walls and window: things Marian had not been able to alter.  His eyes widened in the familiar panic as he looked back at her, the expression she usually saw just before he fled.

She reached up, gently taking his face between her hands.

“Do you want the blindfold now, love?”

As he lowered his eyes to hers, his face softened with relief.  He gave her a grateful little smile and nodded.

She had found the strip of black silk at the market years before, and bought it only because she found it impossible to stop touching it, marveling at how the cool smoothness felt against her fingers.  Though she had justified it at the time by claiming she could find some use for it for dressmaking, she had never found the opportunity before now.  Guy lowered his head and allowed her to place the fabric over his eyes.  When she took hold of his shoulder to urge him down further so she could tie it, he surprised her by kneeling down on the floor in response.  She felt an inexplicable heat spread through her; he was so willingly submissive.  Yet it also made her pause in wonder about whether he had done this before.  Her mouth twisted in disgust before she could banish thoughts of the sheriff from her mind; how fortunate that Guy could not see her face.  She tied a knot at the base of his skull, combing his long hair down underneath it so she could tighten it into place.

“That’s not too tight is it, Guy?”

“No.” His voice was growing hoarse already.  Whatever had happened before, at least it wasn’t on his mind now, she thought.  That was some comfort.

 “Give me your hands now” she urged.

When he had raised them up to her, she placed one on the bed and held the other, helping him to stand up.

She felt her breath quicken as she looked over him; struck by the realization he was completely naked except for the blindfold.  Of course, it was hardly the first time she had seen him so; but there was more here than just the strong, beautiful body that had stirred her long before she wanted it to.  There was something about seeing him when he couldn’t see her, about being dressed while he was not, even if she was only in her shift.  He was so vulnerable, and she relished the power she felt over him.  Then it occurred to her, again, that Vaisey probably felt the same way.  The thought was enough to make her sigh in vexation and sit down on the bed.  She had told herself so many times since she and Guy rose to power that she had nothing whatsoever in common with the former sheriff.  Perhaps she did after all.

“Marian,” Guy called to her, taking a cautious step forward.  After a stumble, he stood as though nailed to the floored, but reached towards her as he said her name again, his voice growing louder and more worried.

Standing, she took his hands in hers.  “I’m sorry, Guy.  I didn’t mean to neglect you,” she cooed.

Looking from him to the bed, she considered how best to get him on it.  As attractive as Guy was in his blindfold, guiding a man twice her size presented some difficulties. She stepped closer and put her hands on his waist.

“Turn around . . . no, the other way.  Good.  Now, step back until you feel the bed behind you.”

Guy half-sat, half-fell onto the bed, and Marian had to bite her lip to stop from giggling at him.  She urged him into the center with her voice and a hand on his shoulder until he was lying with his head on the pillow.

“There.  Are you sure this is alright? You can take off the blindfold any time you like; it’s a simple knot.”

He smiled.  “I’m fine, Marian.  Just . . . please keep touching me so I know you’re there.”

“And so you know I’m not going to hurt you,” her mind supplied.  She remembered now; it was certainly not the first time he had worn a blindfold.  But this time, she pushed the idea aside. She was not Vaisey, and she was not Robin either.

Sitting down on the bed next to him with her hip pressed against his, she leaned down to kiss him.  When he reached up and cupped the back of her head, she took hold of his wrist and held it down against the bed.  She kissed him again, harder, drawing a moan.  She grinned in triumph.  Apparently, he was as aroused by the blindfold as she was.

Slipping her fingers underneath the smooth fabric, she held his head back against the mattress making him shiver as she left a trail of kisses down the side of his neck before pressing her lips to his again.  She kissed down the other side and he gasped when she nipped at the sensitive flesh stretched over his collarbone.  Sitting up, she looked down at him with appreciation.  His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and his neck already bore a pink flush from her attentions.  Taking a glance behind her, she found his cock standing at half-mast and wondered how hard it would be when she finally reached it. 

“I’m going to get undressed now, but I’m right here, Guy.  I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered into his ear.

A little shudder passed through him, but he made no other reply.  She kicked off her shoes and stood up to pull her dress over her head.  Before she could do the same with her shift, she noticed Guy’s hand moving across the bed where she had just been.  Deciding that the shift could wait, she stretched out next to him, draping her leg across his thigh.

“You can’t even wait as long as it takes for me to undress?” she asked playfully.  When Guy only smirked in reply, she rolled on top of him, pressing her clothed breasts against his chest.

“You can speak, you know,” she reminded him.  “I stopped short of gagging you.”

“This time,” he pointed out, his lips parting into a smile.

Marian chuckled as she rose on her hands and knees to move back.

“If I gagged you, why, I wouldn’t be able to hear you,” she purred.

Before he could respond, she leaned down to flick her tongue over a hard nipple before taking the tiny nub between her lips.  Guy moaned softly, pushing his chest up towards her as she moved back.

“You know how much like hearing you.”

Without another word, she lay on top of him, pinning is lower body down with hers.  His cock twitched against her belly as she moved back and forth between his nipples, licking and sucking.  She fought the urge to nip and twist them, the way she preferred herself, but she knew that his were even more sensitive than hers.  And this time, it was going to be about what he liked.  Mostly.

She pushed herself up, straddling his thighs to give him a chance to catch his breath.  As he relaxed, she saw that he had been gripping the sheets with his hands, and yet he had not attempted to touch her again since she had stopped him.  “So obedient,” she thought to herself, and this time she felt only pleasure and gratitude.

When she moved further back and lowered her hands to his thighs, he spread them without instruction.  Marian stood up just long enough to pull up the skirt of her shift, making it easier to climb onto the bed and kneel between Guy’s legs.  As her thighs pressed together, she fought to contain a moan herself.  Her cunt was so swollen and wet with excitement that she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to tease her husband.

Guy writhed with frustration as slowly slid her hands up his inner thighs and over his groin.  His cock stretched up against his belly; a droplet of moisture already glistened at his tip and spilled over when she took his scrotum in her palm.  The muscles in his stomach tightened as she gently rolled and tugged his stones, and he heaved a ragged sigh.

“Marian . . . please,” he whimpered.

She froze, releasing him.  It was so rare that Guy asked her for anything that she did not know how to respond. Perhaps he was overwhelmed already, by the location and the loss of his vision. And yet she wanted nothing more than to keep teasing him.

“What do you need, darling,” she murmured, toying with the idea of putting the decision in his hands.

“I . . . I . . .” he seemed to struggle with the question, too. To help, she dragged the tip of her index finger up the length of his cock, spreading the precome leaking from his tip on the downstroke.  Guy whined and bucked his hips.

“Please . . . please keep touching me!” he forced out between pants.

Marian grinned wolfishly; hearing him beg was almost enough to make her ignore the ache between her own legs, but not quite.

Wrapping her hand around his shaft, she gave him a single stroke from base to tip before releasing him to straddle his thighs again.   She had grown unbearable hot under the snug shift, and worked quickly to pull it over her head.  Guy groaned with relief as she pressed her wet slit against his erection, forgetting himself long enough to raise a hand to her hip, holding her in place.

His mouth closed as if in sudden realization.  “I’m . . . sorry, Marian. I didn’t mean . . .”

He trailed off as she covered the offending hand with her smaller one and brought it to her bare breast.

“You’ve been so good, Guy,” she purred, gasping as he rubbed his thumb over her nipple.  “One little lapse, I can forgive.”

She took hold of his cock and rose on her knees just enough to slip it inside her.  For a moment, she remained still, giving herself time to adjust.  As much as she enjoyed taking control of Guy in other respects, they had not done this very often.  Attractive as the idea was, the action itself had always made her feel self-conscious, as though she was on display.  But now there were no eyes on her, and she focus on setting the rhythm, on how good Guy’s cock felt as she moved back and forth.  As she braced herself on his chest, she felt it rise and fall with deep, measure breaths, and his brow knit with concentration as she watched him.  She wondered what he was thinking about so hard, but from the sounds he was making it was clear that he was enjoying himself.  He was probably just trying to last, to wait his turn until she had finished.

Before long she was sweating heavily with exertion; it was not easy to both keep her balance and get the angle just right for Guy’s cock to hit the spot that made her gasp.  Her rhythm had faltered several times before she felt his hands on her waist again.

“Do you want me on top now, love?” he asked.

It was a simple question, with no smugness or superiority.  She nodded before her overstimulated brain remembered that he could not see her.  He gasped with surprise as she lay down on top of him, slipping her hand underneath the back of his head.

“Lift up,” she ordered huskily.  “I . . . I want you to see me now.”

As he did, she took hold of the knot, pulling it up.  If she tugged his hair at the same time, he paid no attention.  Regaining his sight made him bold, and he sat up, pulling her underneath him. She wrapped her legs around him, encouraging him to set a quicker pace.  Before long, she could feel the tension within her growing tighter, nearing its breaking point. Looking up at Guy, she saw his eyes closed tight in pleasure; he was close too. 

With one more thrust, she cried out, tightening her fingers on his back as pleasure surged through her.  She stretched out underneath her husband, letting her arms drop down by her sides as he continued to thrust, his rhythm faltering.

“Guy, look at me,” she purred.

With some effort, he opened his eyes, revealing pupils almost blown black.

She smiled lazily up at him. “I love you, darling.”

As it always did, the sentiment affected him more than any touch could.  He made no reply but to close his eyes once more as his head jerked back and he spilled inside her with a groan.

When he stretched out next to her, still breathing heavily as he recovered, she thought of how long she had spent thinking she would never get to share this bed with him.  And now her patience had been rewarded. But before long, as the sweat on their bodies cooled and they were drawn close together for warmth, she found herself doubting again.

“Guy?” she said softly, not wanting to wake him if he was indeed asleep.  She waited in silence, almost deciding to roll over and go to sleep before he finally stirred.

“What is it, love?” he murmured.

“You’re not . . . worried about having nightmares here, are you?”

As soon as the question was out, she blushed at how thoughtless it was.  He’d had nightmares in the bed they’d shared before their wedding, and before that with such frequency that Allan had seen fit to warn her about them.  She had experienced a few of them already, but would they be even worse here considering what had happened in this room before?

Guy pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  “It’s possible, but . . .” He hesitated for a moment.  “If I do . . . you’ll be here, right?”

The uncertainty in his voice broke her heart.  Perhaps it wasn’t what had happened in this room before that had caused the most damage, but the way the sheriff had made Guy doubt whether anyone else could truly care for him and want to comfort him.  He still wasn’t sure of it, even now.

With a ferocity that made him start, Marian wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down onto her breast.  “Always, Guy,” she insisted, combing her fingers through his hair soothingly as he relaxed once more.  “I’ll always be here for you.”


End file.
